LINES, LUST AND LOVE
stir’s new dating, sex and relationship columnist explains why she’s craving some chivalry in Columbia
When a male hippo spots a potential sex fest across the swampy waters, he enters the female hippo’s line of vision and immediately poops on himself.
This very event occurs nightly at your favorite watering hole in Columbia.
These local hippos include the skeevy old men who wouldn’t leave my friend Chloe* and I alone at Carolina Ale House until I told them, in no uncertain terms, that no, we did not want to have sex with them, and no, we did not want to talk to them, and yes, please go away.
They include the guy with kind eyes at Jake’s Bar & Grill who should have been a catch (he said he was in medical school and a personal trainer), until he slid from his bar stool to reveal glittery jeans, quite possibly stolen from Elton John’s closet.
And I can’t leave out the local celebrity I met at Wild Wing Cafe, who gave me three date options. Dinner, a movie, or, “If you don’t like one and two, pick option three — go f**k yourself.”
Men all over this town are pooping all over themselves.
And if having to hide from hippo-men isn’t bad enough, Columbia is also crawling with marsupial mice, whose collective priority is to bone as many females as possible.
Coincidentally, these such mice strongly resemble my last long-term ‘fella. It’s true. I had quite a tryst with a boy like this. We’ll call him Adam, and I give him props. He didn’t hide the fact that he was a man whore through and through. And no mattand through. And no matter how much beer he consumed, this home grown Lexington lover always came bearing condoms. Staying true to his wanton ways, there was absolutely no expectation that a real relationship would ensue.
Quite frankly, the only issue I had with Adam is that after having all that sex with all those women, he should have been able to “produce.”
Unfortunately, it was a classic two hump chump experience.
While I didn’t get the mind-blowing sex I’d set out for, I held the power of being in a non-committed relationship with a guy who couldn’t possibly hurt me, who is an ideal mate for a girl on the rebound. Until I was ready for more, in my head and in my bed, it worked.
Another serious problem swimming through my vodka tonics is the male angelfish. Similar to the sonofabitch I used to date, the male angelfish is a born mooch, latching on to the female for survival.
A Columbia native, the sonofabitch was the quintessential angelfish freeloader, engaging in endless hours of Playstation use (on my TV), while spending weeks at a time in my apartment, where he ate my food and drank my beer before going home to his parents’ house to drop off his dirty laundry.
This is the most not-OK behavior I’ve ever lent myself to. I’m quite ashamed of it. Young and naïve, I thought I was in love. Needless to say, the relationship did not end well. Never again will I date a man who still lives with his parents.
After the many months of heartache that followed, my views on love and independence took a sharp turn.
This time around, I’m taking my cues from the female praying mantis. She is in control, whether she wants to keep her mate around or eat him for dinner. There is a 31 percent chance she will bite off his head as they mate, causing him to ejaculate much faster than planned. If he doesn’t fall victim to her, however, he’s got a 69 percent chance of happy survival and post sex bliss.
Her thought process is not that unlike my own. There are times when I want to have wild, crazy sex and enjoy my bed without a man in it afterwards. I do not want to talk about where things are going or what this means for “us.” If you want to have that conversation, you may as well just ask the girl to bite your head off.
On the other hand, a man who wants a woman to keep him around should invoke the courtship rituals of the praying mantis, which include magnificent dances, stroking and wooing. Women like that. I’m a sap for it and hey, that kind of behavior may allow you to keep your head.
Let’s bring chivalry back to Columbia. Instead of invading our personal space while we are out with our girlfriends, have some class and send over a round of drinks. Try to engage in real conversation. And don’t be afraid to embrace your animal instinct, because you never know, you could be just the mate we are looking for.
Remember, the odds are in your favor. Chances are slim that you will lose your head and have a speedy ejaculation.
If you might know my dad from an AARP meeting, DON’T talk to me.
DO look in the mirror before going out at night. This is Columbia,
not Hot-lanta, where glittery jeans might actually fly.
DON’T tell a girl to go f**k herself when trying to ask her out.
DO be honest if you only want sex. Sometimes that’s all we want too.
DO try to be good at having sex, if it is indeed your favorite
hobby.
DO come prepared. Condoms are required; no one wants
your disease.
MOVE OUT of your parents’ house, for God’s sake.
DO NOT cheat. You will get caught.